At the edge of a glistening spring in The Garden, where vines hung like curtains and glowing lily pads floated lazily, a wiry man crouched in the shadows. His patched cloak flared dramatically as he stood, revealing a haphazard collection of belts, pouches, and a wooden sword painted to resemble steel. Twirling his oversized mustache, he whispered, “Captain Booty Bandit, scourge of… uh, ponds.”
This self-proclaimed bandit was no ordinary thief. Inspired by bedtime tales of buccaneers and buried treasure, he believed—quite fervently—that pirates emerged from bodies of water, ready to plunder unsuspecting adventurers. Swearing to intercept their “booty” before they made landfall, he spent his days lurking near springs and puddles, his understanding of pirate lore as shallow as the waters he guarded.
Adjusting his tricorn hat, crafted from tree bark and moss, Booty Bandit noticed ripples forming in the spring. His eyes widened. “Aha! The pirates are coming!” he muttered, gripping his wooden sword with shaky confidence.
In truth, the ripples came from a group of adventurers crossing the spring on stepping stones. Likely seeking the Crystal Key he’d found glinting in the mud towards the edge of the nearby pond. He immediately snatched it from the water claiming it as pirate treasure, now it hangs proudly from his belt where it dangled tantalizingly in the moonlight.
“Booty Bandit claims first rights!” he bellowed, stepping out to block the adventurers’ path. His patched cloak billowed (slightly) in the cool night air as he wagged his sword. “Stay back, you scallywags, or face my wrath!”
The adventurers halted, momentarily confused. Booty Bandit struck what he thought was an intimidating pose, planting his wooden sword into the mossy ground. “You’re dealing with a legend, mates! Captain Booty Bandit! Hand over your loot, or… or I’ll maroon you!”
The rogue squinted. “Maroon us? In a forest?”
“I’ll… toss you in the spring! Same thing!” he snapped, flushing as the adventurers stifled their laughter. The sorcerer leaned in and muttered, “Is he serious?”
Determined to recover, Booty Bandit brandished his sword and declared, “I’ve bested many a pirate in my day! Just last week, I fought one in the puddle by that big tree!”
The cleric raised an eyebrow. “And… what did this pirate look like?”
Booty Bandit hesitated, clearly improvising. “Uh… wet? Very wet.”
As the adventurers stepped closer, unconvinced, Booty Bandit gripped the Crystal Key and hissed, “Stay back, or I’ll summon reinforcements!”
When his bluff failed to intimidate, Booty Bandit switched tactics. Holding the key aloft, he shouted, “Fine! You want the treasure? You’ll have to fight for it! But be warned—I’m the terror of the shallows!”
With an exaggerated lunge, he charged forward, slipping immediately on the mossy ground and landing face-first in the spring. Scrambling to his feet, now soaked and covered in muck, he waved his sword wildly. The Crystal Key glinted in his hand as he sputtered, “See? I’m in my element!”
Planting his muddy boots firmly, water dripping from his makeshift tricorn, Booty Bandit took a defiant stance. “Alright, you lubbers! Come at me! But no sneaky tricks—I fight fair!”
The adventurers exchanged glances, weapons at the ready. Beyond him, the spring’s waters glowed faintly, hinting at greater mysteries. Would they humor the delusional bandit, negotiate for the key, or fight him to claim it?
